


Human

by AutumnFell



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Ahh i hate this, Bad Poetry, Fake/Pretend Relationship, How do people write realistically paced stories, I basically rewrote all of this so if you're from the beginning maybe reread this before continuing, I honestly don't even like hamilton anymore why do I keep doing this to myself, I play the violin and really like dodie if you couldn't tell, I'm also like twelve idk how relationships work, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Watch me whoo you with my very limited knowledge of French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnFell/pseuds/AutumnFell
Summary: John's face was burning, but he powered through it. “You want me to teach you how to kiss?” It was said as more of a statement than question.“Well yes, but also the entire relationship... routine?”John laughed in disbelief mixed with confusion about Alex's childish phrasing.(All chapter titles are from Human by dodie clark)





	1. Lean For Me, and I'll Fall Back

John stared at the text, tilting his head in confusion.

**_A.Hamilton:_ ** _Come to the orchestra room after school, I have to ask you something_

He'd gotten it in the middle of sixth period, strange, considering that the school didn't allow phones unless they were in your locker, and it seemed unlikely that Alexander Hamilton had ducked out of class just to text John. He felt his face heat up at the thought. _Ha._

He shrugged off his biting thoughts, gnawing at the skin of his fingers in boredom as he walked to the room next to the cafeteria that was forced to be shared between orchestra and choir students. He'd only been in there once, on the first day of freshman year, before he got a schedule change to avoid his anxiety going haywire after it was implied they'd have to sing solos in front of the class to see what section they would be placed in the room based on their vocal range.

As he finally opened the door, he was greeted by a rush cold air, the result of the school shutting off heating in certain rooms of the building that were supposed to be vacant. Alex had complained about it multiple times- him being a violinist- because of how easy it was for string instruments to break if exposed to extreme temperatures for long periods of time.

The sound of a Carrie Lane Gruselle piece- "elementary; too easy" Alex had called it- filled the room, the white walls seeming to come alive as the music drifted through the air. He was letting out a goofy smile by the time he finally set his eyes on Alexander's disgruntled face as he messed up a slur.

"I thought you said it was easy," John teased him, gazing at the poems written in blue ink on Alexander's skin. Alex's eye twitched and his brows furrowed further at the comment.

"My hands hurt."

John almost laughed at that. _Of course they do. You never stop writing; playing_. Even now, from where he was standing, he could see a fragment of a poem on Alex's arm:

 _One thing I've realized;_  
_First impressions are also last,_  
_That of course gives you no_ _room_...

John was surprised he could even read that much; even when he stood directly in front of Alexander's outstretched arms, he could barely read through the shaky handwriting and smudging ink.

They let comfortable silence hang between them as Alex gently placed his violin in its case as though it were a baby. Alex had turned back to him with an expectant gaze after he'd done so. He would do this when he didn't want to seem overeager- wait for the other to breach the topic of discussion he wanted.

"What did you need to ask me?" John inquired awkwardly.

Alexander bit his lower lip in thought, practically bouncing in his seat. He took a minute or so to gather his thoughts completely, releasing his now bleeding lip to answer John's question.

"I have a crush on someone," Alex stated.

"Okay?" The answer had taken the breath out of him.

"And you know how I haven't had my first kiss yet."

"Yeah?"

"I trust you, like, a lot. And I was hoping you'd be fine with helping me with..." He trailed off, gesturing in place of finishing his sentence.

John's face was burning, but he powered through it. "You want me to teach you how to kiss?" It was said as more of a statement than a question.

"Well yes, but also the entire relationship... routine?"

John laughed in disbelief mixed with confusion about Alex's childish phrasing. "And what does this routine include?"

"I dunno," he mumbled back. "Show me?"

John beckoned him to the rack of music stands he was in front of, stiff with discomfort, "Okay then. Over here."

Alex followed with wide eyes, watching intently as John moved the boy's hands to his neck while he put his own on Alexander's waist and jaw. The contact made John shudder just a bit.

While John would never admit it, he hadn't exactly kissed anyone either. _Just pretend like you're in one of those movies,_ he told himself. He leaned in closer, waiting for Alex to close his eyes in preparation for what was to come- but he never did, even when John learned even further and the grip on the boy's waist tightened.

"Alex," he breathed out a laugh as Alexander hummed in response, "close your eyes." He watched as Alex blushed, hiding his face from John's view before looking back at him with a confident stare.

It was Alex who initiated the kiss this time. He leaned up to John's face, having to strain his neck to match his height. He shut his eyes once John's lips were just off of his own.

John felt his knees threatening to collapse the second Alex's lips pressed to his. It was closed mouthed, John being afraid of teeth clashing or maybe his breath smelled bad _and why would Alex want to truly kiss him anyway-_

The sensation was the cause of his brain short-circuiting, leaving him helpless to do anything more than stand there, letting the boy just kiss him. It was nice, finally having Alexander's calloused hands around him, impossibly close but not close enough.

When Alex pulled away, John had to restrain himself from letting out a noise that would have no doubt been embarrassing for them both. The shorter, slighter man pulled at his own baseball tee's sleeve, unnatural in comparison to his usual attire of sweatshirts.

John awkwardly smiled, making a move to leave, when Alexander Hamilton, a man full of surprises, asked him a question he never thought he'd be asked.

"Do you want to go public with this?" He quickly added, "for normalcy's sake, y'know?"

John wanted to. _Really, really_ wanted to. The thought of walking through the halls with this wonderful boy seemed like the most appealing thing imaginable- but the most bitter thought came to mind. Every time, Alex would be thinking of someone else. Every time they'd walk together, kiss each other, hell, even talk to each other, he wouldn't be thinking of John, but rather the person in the foreground that he was actually in love with. He'd bend over backward for Alex, but who was to say that he'd do the same? If he fell, would Alex really be there to catch him?

Despite this grim thinking, John complied. "If it'll benefit your... education," and walked out of the orchestra room with a sour taste in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Though I would believe it to be obvious by now, John was absolutely smitten by Alex and had been for a while. The feeling was overwhelming, consuming his being more and more every day.

He'd met Alexander on the other's first day of Junior year when searching for Samuel Seabury, who'd promised he'd give his science notes back to him. When he finally saw the redhead, instead of calling out to him a flourish of black hair and frantic rambling filled his vision.

"Hi, I'm sorry if this isn't a good time, but I'm looking for my tour guide, and the office said he called in sick? I don't know what to really do," his voice was laced with desperation and panic, and John could see his chest heaving as his breathing picked up.

He knew that feeling of trying to fit in, sudden shakiness and sweat on your palms, knowing that it was obvious that you didn't belong. He sighed and took one last glance towards Seabury, before taking Alex's schedule and jerking his head down the hall, "come with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my lovely friend, who you can find on Wattpad @Deaaah and I talked to for a majority of every step of this process so far. He also wrote me a mini fic of John throwing up in Alex's mouth and Alex swallowing it ( ': Effing love him (not in a weird way though mate)


	2. You'll Fit So Nicely, You'll Keep Me Intact

When John opened his math textbook in class the day after the events of the orchestra room, he found a paper that looked like it had been ripped from a notebook. On it, Alexander's handwriting scrawled:

_**Allegory**_  
_By: Alexander Hamilton_

_Let your gaze fall to the Polaroid,_  
_It's faint, flimsy._  
_Covered in a film of dust and time,_  
_Gifted flowery complements through decades,_  
_Given crushing, unwanted critique,_  
_How you should have moved the sun,_  
_The mountains, the clouds,_  
_Kept your memories whimsical,_  
_Rather then the drab mess they were._  
_Lovely meeting you._

_But that's not how memories should be kept,_  
_As they're like stars,_  
_Kept projected for years,_  
_Before exploding to form more._  
_Lovely seeing you._

_You're given feedback to make things seem more picturesque to others,_  
_But to yourself,_  
_They'd become tangled robotic poses and imperfect perfection,_  
_More so a fever dream of sorts,_  
_Where others see their own ideas of art._  
_Lovely to have met you._

John smiled at the note- it wasn't often that Alexander shared his poems with people, usually just degrading them and not allowing anyone else to give their input because he wouldn't  _show it_ to anyone. He gently folded the paper and put it back into his math book, only opening it later in fourth period to just  _look_  at it.

Speaking of fourth period, the person sat next to him- one of his and Alex's best friends, Lafayette- kept trying to look over his shoulder to read the paper, looking on with a frown if John blocked it intentionally with his shoulder. This continued for about ten minutes before John finally turned to actually glare at him.

"What's your problem, Laf?"

Lafayette scoffed, "You really are clueless, aren't you? He mumbled something after that, his heavy French accent making his words even more incoherent to him. John stared at him for a while, waiting for an explanation. When Laf finally did respond, he simply stated with a smile, "Alex told me."

John flushed with embarrassment, opening his mouth to possibly defend himself, but the lunch bell rang deafeningly, and John stayed behind, still frozen in shock, as others ran past him.  _Well hey, Alex is more of a private person, right? He wouldn't have told Laf everything._

John stepped into the hallway, the feeling of all eyes being on him- judging him- returning once again. To his left, a boy was having to yell his way into a conversation as people stared, something John had done multiple times. Except, at the moment, he didn't need to yell his way into a conversation- he felt like he was the conversation. The elephant in the room. The rational side of his brain told him that he was overreacting, and nobody else really knew about what happened in the orchestra room. That side of his brain was overpowered by the other, pessimistic, bitter one, as was the case most of the time.

He couldn't think there, the hall was too stuffy and crowded, and though his locker was so close, the bathroom was closer, so he ducked into the handicap stall, finally given enough space to put down his books, pace in circles and be alone.

"John? Tu es ici?" Lafayette's voice cut through his silence, echoing through the small space of the bathroom. When John didn't respond, he knocked on the stall door rather loudly, "Jooooooohn."

John sighed in response, "What do you want?

"I think you might have taken my words the wrong way? You seemed very nervous when I spoke to you last."

He unlocked the door, standing on the opposing wall from the door to allow Laf to open it. When he burst in, he frantically screeched pleas of forgiveness, "John, I'm so sorry Ididn'tmeantohurtyourfeelings-"

John cut him off, warily smiling, "Do you not trust me?"

Laf latched onto his shoulders, shaking his head with large eyes, "Nonono, I spoke to Hercules and he said that it may have been my- ah, tone that offended you? I am very happy for you and Alex!"

John let out a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair, a feigned smile gracing his face. "Okay," He closed his eyes for a second before finally picking his books up off of the floor, "Okay. Yeah."

Lafayette extended his hand, "Would you like assistance to your locker?" He waited for John to take his hand and shake his head in response.

It wasn't rare for people to think the pair were together, especially when they did things like this, coming out of bathroom hand-in-hand. But Lafayette had a girlfriend in France that he'd left behind, and John had... Alex?

They parted ways once they made it to the stairs next to John's locker, waving slowly at each other.

As John inched his way to his locker to get his lunch money, he spotted Alex at his own, "You got out late," he commented.

Alex looked over as John turned his lock, smiling despite the other not being able to see. "Yeah, orchestra took longer than usual." He slammed the door shut, lunch box in hands, "Martha forced me to take a cold lunch today; even gave a note to go along with it," he began reading it off, gesturing widely as he finally reached John from across the hall, "'Hope you have a great day!' Signed, 'Mom'."

"That's sweet." Alex's foster parents were more of grandparents to everyone than anything. Doting on Alex and his friends, baking cookies in their free time, and being the most supportive people John had ever met.

"Eh," Alex combatted simply. He rested his head on John's shoulder stiffly, only slightly relaxing into it as John tensed under him. "This okay?"

"Yeah." John very specifically moved the arm that Alex wasn't on to avoid disturbance. His mind was distracted from his earlier, biting thoughts, by the false sense of being in a relationship that he would kill to be in with Alex. He grabbed his money and phone, resting his arm around Alex's shoulder, forcing the other to move from the angle he was at, "Let's go, we've probably missed half of the ten seconds they call lunch." Alex swiftly changed to holding hands now, making John suspicious about if Alex had really never been in a relationship before. But he could trust Alex, and Alex had told him that he hadn't.

It was optional to sit anywhere for lunch, even outside (though John couldn't see why anyone would want to do that) and bringing your phone was allowed, as long as the administration didn't catch you on the school's ideas of inappropriate content. But John's friend group always picked the cafeteria to eat in, or else someone would throw a fit.

When John separated from Alex to buy his lunch, he'd made it to the ropes that would usually be holding a line about 50 students or so at a time.  _Usually._  It was a slap to the face; a reminder of how little time they were given on particularly slow days for the servers.

He opted instead for walking to the rectangular table his friends sat at and practically slamming his head on it, groaning. He heard Alex's concerned voice in his ear, asking what was wrong.

"Got there too late," John stated, sitting back up. He still clenched his money in his hand.

Alex, being the caring friend he was, offered his own lunch, "God knows I can't eat everything that Martha packs for me." The sound of Alex's voice was gone, replaced by the sound of Saran Wrap being shoved across the table.

John lifted his head, feeling everyone's eyes on him like daggers, with the exception of Alex's concerned gaze. A sandwich and juice pouch was on the table in front of him. Searching for confirmation, he asked, "You sure?"

Alex wasn't able to respond as their friend, Hercules interjected. "My God, you two! Stop being so disgusting and domestic- I'm gonna throw up!" He fake gagged for effect.

Peggy glared at him. "Don't ruin this for me, I've waited for this moment for years! They've been so obviously in love with each other," she whined through her mouthful of watery cheese sauce and soggy tortilla chips that the school provided.

The boys in question shared a look with burning red faces. John's comfortable mindset when he was with Alex before had been spoiled once again.

John nervously began to eat the sandwich, making sidelong glances towards Alex to see that he looked equally as antsy. He was biting his lip and bouncing his foot under the table, so John tried calming him down by sliding his hand across the bench to meet the others. Alex jumped in his seat and tilted his head to the side.

"This is weird," Alexander giggled once their friends were too distracted by a bad Hallmark movie.

"Are you sure you've never been in a relationship? You're a natural." He hadn't really thought out what he was going to say, but he just went along with it. Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I told you, no," Alex said. He shifted in his seat, his hand accidentally moving further into John's light grasp. He didn't seem to notice, though.

It felt like the only thing really keeping him together was Alex's hand touching his, fitting so perfectly.

 

* * *

 

The first time John had realized how lovesick he was with Alex was when he accidentally walked into the bathroom while over at the boy's house, seeing Alex hunched over the sink, rubbing at his arms. His mind had gone to the worst- he'd fought through depression multiple times, self-harm being the result some days- but Alex startled, and rather than red, he saw blue in the sink basin.

Alex answered to his confused eyes, pulling on his jacket sleeve in a nervous habit. "Um... It's ink. From a pen." 

When John's expression stayed the same and Alex's face reddened, he explained further, "I write poetry. On my arms."

"Why not just use paper?"

Alex's face fell, "I actually don't know. Habit?"

His scared eyes made John feel guilty. In an attempt to calm him down, he asked, "Show me some?"

He visibly relaxed when he realized that John wasn't going to judge him for writing it, but rather wanted to see it. "I think most of it's down the drain," he laughed.

"Then write some more."

They stayed up that night, passing John's curfew to be home completely, writing poetry. Alex fell asleep while critiquing their free verse and haikus, and John followed, heart pumping against his chest with one terrifying thought on his mind as a result from finally being alone with Alex for longer than usual- him sharing something personal with John:

_I love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing this for like five days to hold off writing stuff for a speech


	3. Paint Me In Trust

Alex had never liked his poetry.

And no, he wasn't looking for attention or trying to get pity by saying so- he just didn't.

But _John_. John had given life to his poetry. Given them a purpose, a reason. And when he didn't feel like writing, he would see John and suddenly a million thoughts would flood into his brain and the only way to release them was to write. So he always carried a blue pen in his pocket, and would write them on his arm when paper was unavailable. The poems faded when he took a shower or scrubbed them off for more room, but words would reappear as he wrote more on the remaining markings-  _pulsing._

Music was another escape for him. His biological father had left a violin behind before escaping to wherever he was now, so when he turned nine, he did jobs around his hometown in the burning hot summers to afford lessons from the lady down the street.

He'd never been particularly interested in dating for that reason, spending more time playing the violin or daydreaming than making friendships. Sure, he found people attractive- he'd even dated a girl at the very beginning of Junior year, enjoyed the affection and cuddling, but when she leaned in for a kiss on the day of prom, he'd panicked, pushed her off of him and stayed at home with a rented suit. He'd never found someone he could say he'd marry with pride; spend a life together. Until he'd become friends with John.

_Ha_ , he thought,  _Funny how all of my thoughts have about him as of late. It's like he's in my brain._  But really, he was in a sense.

John was someone he trusted, someone who understood what it was like to be the new kid looking for friends, and could help with that. He'd let John see a part of him, and he'd responded with nothing but interest and kindness.

And his face.  _Oh boy_. Tan skin and freckles, a distinct facial structure framed by dark curls that tumbled down his shoulder. Inspiration.

_Variegated petals_  
_fall from your curls,_  
_shaken by the wind,_  
_coming from when you don't close your door._  
_Once given a life from your energy and flare,_  
_yet you always let them tumble,_  
_from your once so vibrantly adorned hair._

Sloppily written; another free verse where the rhythm faltered as Alex's mind let loose and grew less precise. He'd slip that into John's locker the next day.

Anyway, where were we?

When Alex shared his poetry with John's curious eyes for the first time, he felt something indescribable. He spent the next day googling quizzes on “How To Know If You're Gay For Your Best Friend” and eating garlic croutons straight out of the bag.

When he had just finally accepted his fate of being hopelessly in love with John, he devised a plan. With the beginning of Senior year approaching and the chances of splitting up to go to different colleges getting even higher, he realized that the chance of never having even a taste of a life with John was going up with them.

In his mind, it seemed logical: Lie about having a crush and never being in a relationship before, and ask for some form of practice in a way. In return, he'd sneak poems into John's belongings. Then maybe, just maybe, John would fall in love too. Even if he didn't, at least Alex would know what a life with John being his would feel like.

Yes, he felt guilty when John actually agreed to pretend to be in a relationship with him. But no, he wasn't going to stop it any time soon. Did that make him selfish? Probably. After all, he was misleading John, who probably saw him as one of the most trustworthy people in his life. Alex always wanted his trust, but now he was completely undeserving of it.

So here he was, walking home with his friends as they talked about Hercules' birthday party, John's hand in his, the other occupied by his violin case. The party was in a few days, and Alex was having to prepare himself for large crowds since Lafayette took it upon himself to invite everyone in school.

They reached Alex's street while their friends were arguing about the movie they had been watching that lunch. He waved them goodbye (not that anyone noticed, with the exception of John) and began the trek to his house at the end of the culd-de-sac, throwing on his earbuds to play a somewhat quiet song from the Panic! At the Disco album,  _Pretty. Odd._  for nostalgia, slowly lifting the weight of the day's stress off of his shoulders. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MS VELMA KELLY, IN AN ACT OF DESPERATION 
> 
> The upstairs of my house is unnaturally hot it's not o k a y
> 
> Also despite this prolly being like only like half a day since the last chapter was posted for some of you I literally just woke up so h a


	4. I'll Be Your Best Friend

John knew something was off the second he got to his house. His younger brother's car wasn't in the driveway, and the curtains in his two youngest siblings' rooms were closed despite it being light outside.

When he opened the door, he knew why.

His father was yelling on the phone, angrily spitting out sentences. His voice filled the entirety of the house, making John flinch with every word. It'd been going on for longer than usual this week- his father would get phone calls, just to shout at the person on the other side- and it reminded John of days when he was on the receiving end of those words.

John dropped his backpack to the floor with as little noise as possible before walking out of the house and pulling out his phone. He didn't know where he was going, just that it was going to be far away from there.

He jogged down the street, feeling the cold air make his lungs hurt and his eyes water. He recognized his surroundings but didn't acknowledge them, and the feeling of numbness brought on by the temperature was nice for once.

He found himself at Alex's doorstep. He knocked, panting.

Alexander's foster father beamed at him. "John, it's so nice to see you! Come on in, I know it's cold outside."

"Thank you, Mr. Washington," John said. He was led inside to a coat rack and shoe cabinet, a refreshing change to the pile of shoes and jackets his family left by the front door.

"Oh please, call me George. I'll let Alexander know you're here, just a second." He went upstairs, leaving John to stare at the home decor and pictures of Alex when he was 15.

George came back down about two minutes later, Alex trailing behind him with a book in his hand. He raised a hand in greeting, putting a bookmark in his place and closing the book.

"My room?" Alex asked, pointing behind him.

"Lead the way." He followed him up the stairs.

"John," Alex closed the door behind them, "What brings you here?"

"Some stuff at home. I can't be there right now."

"Oh," Alex said. "Are you guys okay over there?"

"Yeah, dad's just been getting really irritated this week. He's been getting a bunch of phone calls and he keeps getting angry because of them." John sat down on the bed, watching Alex put away a book on one of the shelves lined with them. "It makes me kinda remember a few things, y'know? Stuff with my mom." He could still hear memories of his parents fighting outside of his room, sadly some of the most vivid memories of his mother when she was alive.

"Shit," Alex sighed once John finished talking, "Are you sure you're fine going back home today? My parents know your dad, he should trust us enough to let you stay over," Alex suggested. He sat in his office chair.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just-" John rubbed a hand over his face, "This is gonna sound weird."

"You don't have to tell me, but just remember that I'm your friend. I'm not gonna judge you."

"...Sometimes I wish he'd just hit me. He'd hit me and then I'd have an actually good reason to hate him, instead of him yelling at me and grounding me once or twice." John closed his eyes. "And I know it's stupid to say that, and I probably don't even really mean it, but I just feel like it would be easier that way. Easier for people to digest. And even though he's done basically nothing to me, it feels like he's taken everything away from me already."

After a few beats of silence, Alex whispered, "Oh, John," and wrapped his arms around him.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to force you to listen to my problems." John lifted his head, pulling away from the hug. He felt like he should've been crying right then. "Tell me something. Then we're even."

Alex laughed, "Well, um, when I was younger, I used to wish I had a sister. I don't know why, really, it's not like I didn't have an older brother right there. I guess I just wanted a sort of best friend. I didn't really appreciate how far he went to try to get to know me until after he passed. I was only ten, I guess my brain just couldn't comprehend it back then."

"Do you ever feel guilty?"

"What?"

"That you're moving on without someone."

"I've... lost a lot of people. It hurt at first- I really felt like I was replacing my mom with George and Martha- but I came around in the end and realized that it was fine." Alex leaned back in his chair.

"You know, I could be the best friend you wanted," John said in an attempt to lighten the mood he'd started.

Alex snorted, "Yeah, sure, if only-" he was cut off at Martha telling them that dinner was ready from downstairs.

He turned to John, who looked uncomfortable. "You okay?"

"I should probably get going, I don't want to intrude on anything."

"You wouldn't be at all. Plus, I feel like it would be worse to _not_ eat Martha's cooking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw every time that Alex criticizes his poems it's me criticizing my own poems through Alex. And Teen Beach Movie had a terrible plot and was practically a bad grease ripoff half of the time but the songs were lowkey bops, especially to my second grade self.
> 
>  
> 
> I CHIME IN WITH A HAVEN'T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF-
> 
> Obeying the word of g o d


	5. Call Me The One

 

"So John," George asked, picking up chicken with his fork, "how's school going? Alex here just got an A on his last test." He spoke with so much pride it almost made John want to cry. He never got that.

"It's going good. Of course, math's always a rough subject, but it's alright." John said.

Martha watched him carefully. "That's good," she said.

They continued dinner like that, the only noises being the scratching of forks on plates. John was scared to move for fear that he would make a noise and disrupt the silence.

When they all finished, Martha told Alex to pick up all of the plates and put them in the sink, which he did so begrudgingly. While he was gone, George turned to him.

"John, if you ever need to come over here, you can. I've known your father for a long time," he paused, about to say something.

"You're welcome and safe here," Martha interrupted.

John found it odd but quickly forgot about it when Alex came back.

 

* * *

 

 

John and Alex went back to Alex's bedroom, arguing about classical music that John only pretended to know.

"It's too simple- the tempo's slow, and half of the measures are filled with whole notes. I like more exciting music. Plus, the violas have a main part, and God knows that they don't know what they're doing at all. I've barely even seen them look at the conductor during a fermata," Alex snorted.

"Play the viola part for me then, if they can't," John countered, still somewhat confused about what a viola actually was. " _Just a big violin?_ " he'd asked when shown pictures of the two side by side.

He glared with no real bite at John, but pulled up his case and commented, "Violins don't have some of the same strings as a viola, and are completely different clefs- It'll be higher than it should be." His talkative side seemed to be taking over.

John nodded, waiting for Alex to finish tuning, but making small talk on the way. "Didn't you name it something?"

"What?"

"Your violin."

"Oh yeah, I think it was Emilia. With an e for some reason." The answer seemed to suit Alex perfectly. He slid off his jacket, presumably to keep his sleeves out of his finger's path, when John noticed something.

"You haven't written anything," John breathed with an air of bewilderment. Just a few days ago, it looked like Alex had millions of navy blue tattoos of tiny words, each written in whimsical handwriting that you would never guess to belong to its owner. But now, his arms were as bare as he'd ever seen them, not even the skeleton of old writing left behind.

Alex didn't look as concerned as him, "Paper, dear John. I wrote the last few on paper." He laughed carefully, watching for a reaction.

John swallowed. "Okay."  _Why are you getting so hung up on this? It's_  his  _body_.

"Speaking of which, I still need to write one down before I forget it," Alexander shrugged, plucking a few strings and turning some of the pegs, "Remind me about that." He put on his shoulder rest carefully.

He took out a piece of sheet music, propping it up at an angle. He let his bow touch the strings, moving it downwards.

 

 

* * *

 

The year before, John's friends organized a contest between the five of them. Peggy had picked up a new hobby- drawing- and to hopefully guarantee her winning, she pushed for the contest to be about it.

John's drawings were all from his younger days, when his father was convinced that it was all a phase and he would grow out of it soon. When he didn't stop, he was forced into various sports, and a majority of his drawings were taken by his father and most likely destroyed. He knew starting this up again could be dangerous for himself, but  _one more time and my dad won't see. One more time for the sake of my friends._

He'd drawn turtles to enter a contest once in fourth grade and suddenly became known as "turtle boy," when in reality, he didn't really like turtles. He'd just saw turtles in the pond next to his house at the time before he found that birds and plants were his strong suit. Plus, after he'd been forced to eat a turtle, he wasn't able to look at one in the face ever again.

Looking in his old childhood boxes would give you more of a sense of his interest for nature. Books and toys he'd used as references covered in bubble wrap filled them to the brim, and at the top were drawings of cacti and flowers he'd given to his mom while she was in the hospital. He figured that his father didn't have the heart to destroy those. But other remaining ones were hidden away by John in novels he read over and over- they were close to the point of breaking- and manila folders of grade 3 homework. But only the ones that truly mattered to him. He dug them up for this occasion, lightly dusting them off and looking cautiously around like someone- no, like his father was watching.

He stole supplies from the art room his younger siblings kept, and even if there were only Crayola finger-paints and a few broken brushes and Prismacolor pencils, it was something. The deadline his friends had set up was approaching, and Peggy had already shown them one of her artworks because Hercules was so proud of her that suddenly everyone needed to see it.

The house was under a no-lock policy, so at any moment, someone could walk in. The closet was the safest. He sat as far into his closet as he comfortably could to draw a light sketch of dogwood flowers, using the plastic ones scattered around the house for years by his mother. Nobody had the strength to take them down, not with the memory of his mother speaking of the dogwood trees where she grew up and buying plastic ones, because "if they're fake, I won't have to watch them wilt." All the while, his mother was the one wilting.

He mainly used the white paint and magenta colored pencils, hiding it on the highest bookshelf in his room to let it dry. Then, he snuck out of his room to put away the supplies and getting Febreze. He couldn't risk his room smelling like paint.

When the day arrived, Alex and Lafayette made up excuses to hide the fact that they either completely forgot or wanted to save themselves from embarrassment. Hercules shyly presented his mess of lines and colors that was immediately decided to be taken out by the man himself, and Peggy and John's were a tie. The winner was undecided, but John gave the win to Peggy anyways.

Walking home with high spirits, he opened the door to his house to find a pile of tiny pieces of torn paper in the center of his bedroom that quickly ruined his previously good mood. He knew exactly what they were from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 911 yes hello
> 
> The speech I mentioned in one of these notes is tommorrow and I'm totally going to flunk it because of the length and how I'm probably going to have a sort of internalized panic attack
> 
> (PSA: JOHN LAURENS DID NOT LIKE TURTLES SO STOP SAYING HE DID)


	6. This Night Just Can't End

Alex fell asleep while John was still over, pen still in his hand and notebook in his lap. John layed a blanket over him and moved a piece of hair out of his face, looking at him for as long as he allowed himself to. For a short, fleeting second, he felt the urge to kiss his temple.

Instead, he picked the book up curiously, seeing a finished version of the poem on Alex's arm in the orchestra room. 

_One thing I've realized;_  
_First impressions are also last,_  
_That of course gives you no room,_  
_No excuse- no reason for this reset,_  
_So shake my hand again,_  
_I'll pretend we haven't done this before_

John smiled. Pretending to be in a relationship all day- constant hand holding and being shoved together by their friends- had drained him. It seemed like it was moving too fast for him to comprehend, but this moment let him finally relax.

He still felt a hole in his heart when he thought about the situation he was in for too long. Alex wouldn't treat it like it was real, (because it wasn't) and he still wouldn't be thinking of him no matter how hard he tried.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He picked it up, reading a text from his younger brother, Henry Jr., telling him to come back before curfew.

John picked up the pen, wrote a note next to Alex's poem about how he had to go, and turned off the lights. He went downstairs to get his things, waved to Alex's parents and stepped outside.

The cold had only gotten worse; his jacket barely protected him from the gusts of wind coming through. This time he didn't feel the relieving numbness, just the freezing cold and a sick feeling in the pit in his stomach. With the time it was, he would make it home just before 10, but even if he made it by curfew, who was to say that his father wouldn't be angry at him? Especially after he was over at a boy's house for a good chunk of the day.

When he got back, his father was in the kitchen with his youngest siblings- Mary-Eleanor was coloring in her pajamas while James was hunched over his phone, completely ignoring his sister.

John stopped at the sight, taking it in. His father didn't look frustrated or stern for once, just... _tired._ He was nodding along to Mary's childish babbling, rubbing his eyes.

For once in his life, John didn't want this night to end. Because in the morning, he would have to go back to longing for Alex to just be with him but still wanting to take it slow, even if they weren't even in a real relationship. In the morning, his father would go back to being loud and irritable and angry and mean.

He walked up the stairs, passing by one of the dusty flower bouquets that they'd left in one place for so many years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about going dead for like a week, my anxiety about the aforementioned speech wasn't letting me go to school or really feel like doing anything to the point that I had a panic attack in the hall, but we got it sorted out, and let's just say that I'm lucky to have such an understanding ELA teacher. But my parents are mad at me because I was trying to make light of a situation but it came out wrong s o I actually still feel terrible but eh.
> 
> On a different note, I was listening to "Like or Like Like" by Miniature Tigers for the first time in awhile and f u c k I never truly appreciated it like their other songs when I really should have.
> 
> Oh, also, I started listening to WTNV and jesus christ I love it


	7. I Want to Give You Your Grin

John opened his locker the next day, a piece of paper falling out and onto the ground. He opened it, reading the lines of words he'd read the night before at Alex's house. The torn up piece of notebook paper even still had a small piece of John's note visible.

  
He hesitated before he shut his locker, eyeing a magnet on the backside of the door. He grabbed it, squishing the folded paper under it and quickly walking away.

 

* * *

 

John finished fourth period, got his lunch, and walked to the lunch table. Peggy, Hercules, and Lafayette all looked up at him.

"Have you seen Alex?" Peggy asked, still chewing her food. "All of the band kids-"

"Orchestra," Herc corrected.

"Right, that, they already got out of class, and he's definitely not in there- we checked." Lafayette nodded.

John frowned. "No, I haven't." He thought back to the note. _Alex had to be here to put it in my locker,_ he thought. "Did you guys check outside?"

When they shook their heads, John sighed, picked up his tray and pushed open the doors to the field.

He found Alex there with a pen in his hand and a book next to him in the grass. It didn't look like he was writing any words on his arm, rather angry strokes, and loops. He stopped when John sat next to him, rolling his sleeve up. He stayed silent, keeping it that way for about thirty seconds more before John softly chimed into the cold air.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Alex snorted, a score for John. “Only if you have real money.”

John could tell it was a joke, but he played along and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He didn't have any coins but settled for a dollar to hear his mind at work.

He tapped Alex's shoulder, holding the paper money in front of his surprised eyes, “I didn't have a penny, but you can pay me back later.”

"You, Mr. Laurens, are  _totally_  the smoothest person I've met," Alex laughed, taking the dollar and waving it for emphasis.

He cringed at the use of his last name, a reminder of what his family was told to stand for. How terrifying would it be for his father to see him with another boy? And his mother would have been so disappointed if she were here to know.

"Good to know, I wasn't even trying." John huffed out a strained laugh, replying sarcastically to continue the joke along. "So..." He prompted.

"Ah, right. Are you okay with this?" He looked at John, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering. "Like actually okay. I'm not keeping you from anything?" The inaudible "or anyone" that John could hear perfectly well hung between them. The air was tense, and the silence heavy.

But it gave him room to think. Think about what Alex was probably actually thinking about this situation, keeping his thoughts and opinions hidden in subjects he didn't seem fit to express them in. He thought about how disappointed his friends would be if Alex and him “broke it off"- hell, if they told them they'd lied- and directly after, Alex went to go ask out another person. How it would be to see Alex with his crush. 

He must have gotten at least a dozen strands of hair caught in his mouth from the wind in the time it took for him to sort out his thoughts and answer, “I'm okay with this… are you?” he winced.

The other barely looked up, swaying and picking blades of grass, “Of course I am, I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't,” he mumbled out.

They stayed that way for a while, and sometimes their shoulders would brush together, or Alex would sneeze and John would get so caught up in his own mind that he didn't even say bless you. He just stayed cooped up and wallowing about how none of this was real, just a façade, like he did at home, just this time Alex was right next to him.

The quiet was interjected by Alex's voice echoing, “Penny for your thoughts?” He outstretched his hand, holding the dollar John had given to him, “I only have a dollar, though.”

John looked up and smiled, not taking the dollar. “We should get going, the bell's probably gonna ring soon." He stood up, taking his tray to the trash can, about to dump the food inside, when Alex stopped him.

"But you didn't eat anything." He squinted at him.

"Neither did you," John pointed out. He dumped his food in the trash and set his tray on the cart next to it.

"Eh." Alex shrugged.

When they got inside, Peggy and Hercules were waiting by the door. Alex took his hand and John had to stop for a second to remind himself that it wasn't real and that Alex wasn't in love with him. It made him want to pull away, but seeing the smile on Alexander's face when he grabbed back made him want to continue forever, just to be the one to make him happy.

"You guys were out there for _hours,"_ Peggy whined, "At least give me a heads up, I texted you like fifty times!"

John blushed. "Sorry. Where's Lafayette?"

Hercules spoke this time, "He's talking to Adrienne and made us leave. I guess he just realized that it's not that late in France, so he called."

Alex hummed. Lafayette could be a bit overbearing, so it made sense that he was the same in his relationship even when they were an ocean apart.

The bell rang. Alex's hand was gone from John's.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" Alex asked, going in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry about leaving you for like two weeks. This was originally supposed to be up on Tuesday. I've been being forced to throw my creativity at other stuff in school, like how in ELA we're supposed to write like five pages in forty minutes, and in art, we're doing tedious projects that take like a month to do. 
> 
> ALSO JOHN LAURENS DID NOT LOVE TURTLES, HE JUST LIKED NATURE. HE ONCE A T E A TURTLE. SO STOP DUMBING HIS WONDERFUL, STUPID SELF INTO A "PURE GAY TURTLE" WHEN THAT'S NOT CORRECT.
> 
> (P.S. Sylvester's the name of my violin, also known as my son who I accidentally licked's scroll the other day.)


	8. So Tell Me You Can't Bear a Room That I'm Not In

Alex really saw George as a father figure, but he would never tell him that for the same reason he didn't _call_ him "dad" or "father": He'd called his biological father that. His father was cold and terrible and abandoned his family. George wasn't his father.

  
When he fell asleep that night, for the first time in months, he had a nightmare about his father. He woke up in a cold sweat, the blankets by the edge of the bed. His cheeks felt wet.

He had to get out of there.

Not thinking, he got dressed, grabbed his phone and violin case like he would when he was going to school in the morning, and then walked out of the door. He walked to the small neighborhood park, sitting on one of the benches. It was cold, and in the pocket of his sweat jacket, he could feel a piece of paper. An old poem.

Reading the poem made him want to see John more than ever. It was late, way too late to be outside, but the ever-growing need to see him fueled him on and had him pressing call.

 

* * *

 

It was 2 am when John was woken up by his ringing phone. He groaned and rolled over to read who was calling with bleary eyes. _Alex._

He clicked the "Accept" button. "Hello?"

"Hey John, I know it's really late and all, but can you come to the park by my house?" Alexander asked before quickly adding, "You don't have to."

That's how John ended up taking Henry Jr.'s car keys and driving to Alex. He was still in his pajamas, not even making the effort to grab a jacket. When he saw Alex in the headlights, he pulled up to the curb and opened the door.

"You coming?" He asked the boy.

Alex looked at him up and down, stopping at his pajama pants. He snorted, "Bears? Cute."

John blushed. "I... I got them for Christmas," he sputtered out.

"Yeah, yeah," Alex said. He stood up, violin case and all. "Where are we going?"

John just shrugged, getting inside the car and starting it when he heard the passenger side door close. Alex shoved his violin in the back seat.

They drove in comfortable silence, the radio softly playing. Neither knew where they were going, but it was okay.

They drove for at least 40 minutes when John suddenly found a vacant lot and parked in it. Alex looked at him expectantly, and John just pointed to the back seats.

He folded down the seats to make enough room for them to sit comfortably, making sure to be careful as it was technically his brother's. Even though the car was actually John's, the second Henry Jr. got his license, his father snatched the keys from John's hands and gave them to him. He frowned at the memory.

Alex picked up his violin case and sat adjacent to him.

"Why'd you even bring that?" John asked. The only lights he could see by were the small, clickable lights on the roof of the car. Right then, it felt like he could never live without Alex. Even the thought of being in a room without him seemed repulsive.

"Wasn't thinking," Alex replied. "You cold?" He questioned, seeing the way John was shivering in his t-shirt. When he nodded, Alex pulled off his sweat jacket and handed it to him.

John put it on, accepting anything being thrown his way at that second. Alex looked at him for a long while, and he suddenly felt self-conscious under his stare.

Realizing that John caught him looking, Alex whipped his head to the side and asked something John found strange. "You wanna try playing the violin? There's really nothing else to do."

Alex never trusted anyone with his violin. So why was he allowing John to play it now?

"Why not?" John watched as Alex opened the case, tuned the violin and put on the shoulder rest. He handed them to him.

"Let's just pizzicato for now."

He told him what each string was, how to tell what note something was by the fingerings, and where to put his fingers. He taught him the notes to "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" first, only focusing on the D and A strings. When John messed up, Alex would move his hands to the correct place with a gentle touch that had John messing up even more.

The lights of the car eventually turned off, but they didn't notice because it wasn't important, not when they were shielded from the rest of the world in their own pocket of the universe in a somewhat expensive, beat-up car. It was only when John got a notification from a game on his phone that they finally snapped out of the feeling of content, and the pair realized that it was already 4 am.

Alex pulled the violin out of John's grasp, his hands lingering for a touch too long. They both silently got back into the front seats and managed to find their way back to Alex's house.

Alexander grabbed his violin and looked at John, inching a little closer with each second that passed. He stopped himself though, leaning on the console with face heating up as he quickly got out. He waved goodbye and almost ran up to his door, opening it with a key.

He was already inside when John realized that he was still wearing his jacket. Sighing, he leaned to the side to grab his phone out of his back pocket, but stopped when he heard the crinkling of paper in the jacket.

He found the pocket it was coming from and grabbed it uncertainly, reading the first line in blue ink.

 ** _Outpour_**  
_By Alexander Hamilton_

He shoved it back in the jacket, feeling wrong for reading even that much. He put his keys in the ignition and drove off.


	9. Oh, I'm So Human

When he got home, Alex tried to go back to sleep, his eyelids heavy. Key word being  _tried_. His mind wouldn't calm down. The way he'd left things with John just then seemed to be the only reasonable explanation. 

He rubbed at his arm unintentionally to deal with the stress, basically erasing anything he'd written on it beforehand. He regretted it once he realized what he'd done, thinking about the poems he'd planned for John on that arm. He breathed out through his nose heavily and pulled out a blue pen, doodling music notes that went along to  _Eleanor Rigby_  when played in the right key and clef. Then he wrote interesting words that came to his mind next to the double bar line he'd just drawn, only stopping when his wrist got sore.

He tapped his finger on his bedsheets, sighing. His phone lit up with a scheduled calendar reminder about Hercules' birthday being the next day, and he finally flopped unceremoniously onto his back. He remembered all of the other parties he'd been forced to go to, and the only thing sounding appealing to him at the time being the alcohol. He'd never actually gotten drunk before, but from what he'd heard, it sounded like the best way to let loose right then. Even though all of the D.A.R.E. programs he was forced to endure as a child played back in his head at even the slightest mention of drugs, Alexander told himself he would let himself have fun.

There was a piece of gum on the wall, a bright blue spot against the white of the rest of the room. He stared at it, surely having thoughts as he did, just not remembering any.

He felt his eyes closing while he was listening to the air conditioner rattling, on top of the covers with the lights still on. He slept lightly, waking up in hours of the night at random times, not really knowing if he had even fallen asleep at all.

He was continuously drifting in and out of sleep when Martha opened his door, the click of it startling him into bolting upright.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Martha said, "I thought you'd be up by now."

Alex groaned. "Mm...What time is it?" He grumbled. He wasn't even sure if he'd gotten any rest.

"Its about three. You slept really late. I thought you were awake when I came in the first time," she chuckled.

"Shit," Alex whispered. He remembered Hercules' party, and the fact that he'd put off buying a gift until now. He only had three hours until he had to be there-  _make that two_ , he thought. He took incredibly long showers, always forgetting what time it was, and being late from time to time because of it. The things that Herc truly liked were a mystery, too, so finding a present was sure to be a challenge.

 

* * *

 

Alex arrived at the Mulligan household an hour and thirty minutes late. His parents forced him to talk to them about if he'd been having nightmares from when he'd first met them again, most likely because of his odd sleep schedule that day. He also had to run over to Target to get anything midly fitting for Herc's birthday after a way too long shower.

In one hand he held a gift bag full of scattered items he found in the clearance section, the other clutching his phone. There were already a few cars parked outside and music was blasting. The absence of half of the school- who Lafayette took upon himself to invite- told him that he'd just arrived at the start of the real party.

He opened the door to the sound of Lafayette arguing with Peggy about music, the speakers changing sporadically from ABBA to Twenty One Pilots. Laf screeched about "modern bullshit," while Peggy calmly explained how if he wanted to listen to his "stupid disco music", he might as well have been searching for new friends.

Herc came up behind them, waving shortly at Alex and directing him to a gift table, while also trying to get Laf and Peggy to compromise. He grabbed Lafayette's phone and started talking to it when he realized that it was still on a videocall with Lafayette's very confused girlfriend.

Alex wondered where John was. He hoped that he didn't feel as awkward about last night as Alex did and still showed.

His prayers were answered when he ducked into a small bedroom to get away from the noise and found John leaning on the bed. 

He sat down on the mattress, startling John into looking up. The boy shoved his phone into his pocket and plopped down next to him, "You're late," he stated bluntly.

"And you were prolly here at a reasonable time, huh?" Alex asked, moving back to lay on the bed, waiting as John followed suit.

"Herc kept asking where you were. I guess part of the 'relationship routine' is being together at the same time and place."

Alex hummed, staring at the popcorn ceiling, the feeling of hopelessness reminiscent to the night before. Mindless thoughts floated in and out of his head, before something started prodding at him. He frowned, turning towards John who looked at him with a questioning look.

"Did you read it?" Alex asked, the words hanging heavy in the air.

"Read what?" John replied. A piece of his hair moved with his breathing.

"The poem. In the pocket."

"Oh." John paused. "No."

"You're still wearing my sweatshirt," Alex noted. "Did you take it out?" He barely noticed he was saying anything at this point, the words feeling automatic.

His face tinted red as he pulled it out of the pocket. He turned on his side to mirror Alex, unfolding the paper carefully. He moved his mouth as he read, silently forming the words that Alex knew by heart.

_I feel elated,_  
_My mind sifting through thoughts._  
_They fall_  
_d_  
_o_  
_w_  
_n,_  
_From my brain to my lips,_  
_So that hopefully,_  
_You'll hear them soon._

Alex leaned in when his mouth curled around the last word, being able to feel the deep tension in the room. His fingers met the other's, twitching slightly before inintertwining. The atmosphere was broken, and Alex sighed in content. John was more beautiful than ever at this distance, each and every nook and cranny of his face visible from-

The door slammed open, Peggy and Hercules laughing at the sight before them.

"Get up! The cake's getting cut soon, and I'll fight anyone who gets in my way!" Peggy yelled. She took a second before she finished with, "I am also completely disappointed in the current music selection. The only ABBA song I will  _ever_ appreciate is Waterloo and that's my final decision."

John, Alex, and Hercules all shared a look as the girl skipped her way out of the room. 

"Is she-?" John started, eyebrow raised.

"As far as I'm concerned, no. I haven't even taken the drinks out," Hercules murmured. He snapped his fingers, "Anyway, you heard the woman."

 

* * *

 

The cake had been cut and the presents had been opened, various kids from his school streaming into the house. Lafayette had rubbed his hands together and announced the party officially starting, putting on  _So Long_ _._ That had been exactly thirty songs- and four drinks he'd been forced to watch Alex down- ago.

John's head was pounding, the music in the room deafening. It was surprising that no noise complaints had been filed so far, let alone the cops being called. It was obvious, even from the outside, what was happening inside of the Mulligan household: A party of illegally drunk high schoolers. People were walking outside just to throw up in the bushes before running back inside to scream about what they'd missed while they were gone for only about ten seconds.

John had never felt more alone in his life. Well, with some exceptions.

Alexander would usually be by his side in something like this, timid and scared to do something reckless like this. But Alex had been lost to the crowd of partygoers, and John was forced to watch as people handed him drink after drink. It was completely out of character for him, and John knew that Alex had never drank before, but the sheer amount he was drinking seemed overkill.

Maybe something in him had changed. John couldn't help but think back to the conversation they'd had when they ate outside; the flash of a grimace on Alexander's lips that he'd only just noticed through a memory.

Alex walked towards him unsteadily.

"Jooohn. Joh-" Alex was cut off by a hiccup, stumbling towards him and dropping his cup on the floor, spilling what little was in it. John held onto his shoulders as Alex faceplanted into his chest.

"Jesus," John whispered. "How much did you drink? Are you okay?" Concern laced his voice.

"Uh," Alex giggled, words tickling the inside of his mouth. He lifted his hand from where it had been smushed between John's chest and himself, lifting fingers to count while John sighed, knowing it was hopeless. In the background, through the unfitting ABBA music, he could hear Lafayette screeching something along the lines of, "Elle veut mon chou!" Which didn't make particular sense and made Alex frown.

"Let's get you home, okay?" John suggested.

Alex seemed to sober up at that, shaking his head and explaining his fear of his parents finding him in this state.

"Alright then, my place it is," John groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo shit guys I'm back after focusing on my schoolwork for once sorry for disappearing for like three months lol
> 
> Fun fact: All of the bad poems I write are separated into folders titled, "Haikus, b i t c h", "dING DONG ITS YOUR FREAKING REFRIGERATOR", and last but not least, "Beepity Deepity you piece of shit get a life"
> 
> ALSO JUST A DISCLAIMER THAT TØP AND ABBA ARE BOTH GREAT AND ANYONE WHO DISAGREES CAN MEET ME IN THE PIT


	10. We're Just...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A WARNING: Be aware that there's a homophobic slur in the second section! I'll put a [*] before the paragraph it's in so that you can skip over it.
> 
> I also edited some of the older chapters so that they flowed more smoothly and actually fit the characters better, so if you wanna, go ahead and reread them!

It was raining when John stepped outside, Alexander following somewhat close behind. His phone was blowing up from Lafayette sending him drunken photos of himself and screenshots of him on a video call to his girlfriend in France with odd captions. He silenced his ringtone for Laf's messages.

"God Alex, why did you even drink anything?" John muttered.

 

* * *

 

A sixteen-year-old John sat on a rusty swing set, waiting for someone to come out to check on him. The screen door was only a few feet away from him, and the popping of fireworks made everything even more insufferable.

New Year's Eve.

He tried coming up with a resolution to think of something else for the time being, but his father's words overpowered anything he could have even thought about doing. He'd planned to come out to his father today, knowing that he was already at the legal emancipation age if anything went wrong. He could escape from any repercussions for his sexuality- he realized now how naive that was.

 _Of course_ his father already knew.

[*]He hadn't been very subtle about it anyway, especially with how many times he had to walk home with books and binders with three letters sprawled across them in big, black letters. " _FAG_." He pretended to pay them no mind to Peggy, who would stomp into the bathrooms and scrub at the covers, sometimes ruining the pages inside.

He could see the disapproving look in his father's eyes when he found them, his mother already phoning the school. She always knew what to do. _Why couldn't she just have stayed alive for maybe just two more years?_

John's mom had loved him- he had no doubt about that. She was a source of light, able to crack down even his father's hard, cold shell. He was being selfish in his thinking. _She couldn't have stayed alive, she didn't deserve to stay alive in a weak body that looked nothing like herself._

He kicked his feet forward, a deafening creak coming from the swings. He'd been scared of breaking it before, but now it seemed appealing. _Just another piece of my childhood, dead and gone,_ he thought, pushing harder and faster, the cold air fueling him on until-

The screen door slid open. His older sister stood on the lawn and stared at him. In her right hand, she held a champagne flute.

He'd almost forgotten about her when she was away at college. He'd thought he'd managed to pretend that it didn't hurt that she wasn't there. But then she'd just decided to pop up out of nowhere and come back home for a week.

She knew exactly what his ticks were, how he was feeling, his thought process, who he was friends with. He thought he knew the same, but she had packed up and left so suddenly.

_She didn't even come to the goddamn funeral._

 

* * *

Alexander knocked into John's side, altering from his previous giggly mood to just moping about the current situation he was in. John hoped that he would be quiet enough to not wake his family once they got to his house.

"Everyone offered me a buncha cups and I didn't wanna be a party pooper," Alex tried explaining. He slurred a little, a tiny frown gracing his face. After another minute of them walking, he said, "Hey, John, I lied-"

He was cut off as he bumped into a lamp post he hadn't seen. He seemed to have lost his train of thought when he got back up, cursing its existence. John was left to just wonder what he'd been talking about.

 

* * *

 

John had panted, slowing the swing by dragging his feet in the bark under him. She walked up to the seat next to him.

"I know you're mad at me," she said.

"Martha-" he tried interrupting. It hurt so badly to say her name. He couldn't even bear to think it in the state he was in.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you." She took a sip out of the flute. She swung herself lightly on the swing, leaning her head on one of the chains. She continued, "Dad showed me some of the things you wrote." She let out a short laugh. "You never even call me by my name."

John froze. He thought he'd ripped those papers to pieces immediately after writing them.

"How's everyone else doing? Mary-Eleanor doesn't even recognize me."

He couldn't be surprised that Martha was like a stranger to the youngest in their family. John tipped his head back, looking at an especially odd shaped firework. "We're fine. Dad's- well, I think you can tell." _He's built his shell back up_ , he wanted to say.

Martha hummed, finishing off her drink and carefully burrowing the bottom of the glass into the bark. "You know what John? One day, I'm going to get you out of this place."

John opened his mouth to reply, but from inside the house, voices were yelling something.

_"...3!"_

_"...2!"_

_"...1!"_

_"Happy New Year!"_

 

* * *

 

John distractedly put his arm around Alex's shoulder, walking forward. They were only about a block away from his house, the houses getting larger and more expensive looking the farther you got.

This was why he never invited anyone to his house; it was a constant reminder of all the advantages he'd been given at birth. He could only hope that his father was working as late as he'd been recently. Alex was gaping at the house, squealing about the water feature in the front yard and going up to touch it multiple times.

Once he managed to pull the boy away from it, John carefully opened the side door to the garage and lead Alex through the house, having to shush him multiple times. Excluding them, the house was quiet and still. The light in his father's office was off, but the time seemed late enough for him to have already gone to sleep. He could only hope for the best.

They made it to his room with little casualties, and when Alex was basically half asleep with leaning all of his weight on the other, John finally set him on the bed. He felt awkward about sharing the same one because of how Alexander had been acting with alcohol in his system and the current setting, but when he tried to walk away, Alex pulled on his sweatshirt's sleeve and forced him to stay.

Succumbing to his fate, John lay down next to Alex, his arm still half under the boy's head and stuck in a death grip. Just when he thought he was completely asleep, Alexander raised his head, eyes closed and words slurred with sleep and beer.

"Oh, what I was gonna say," he had that tiny frown on his face again, "Lied. 'M sorry."

John was bewildered. "What?" He whispered into the dark.

Alex mumbled his next few words, but all John could pick out from them was a lazy "I love you" that kept him from computing anything else around him. Thoughts raced in his mind, wondering what he had meant.

He turned on his lamp to look the boy in the eye, but he was already asleep, using his arm as a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I fucking love water features like those fucking frog ones where they're spitting out the water or just weirdly anthropomorphic?? Like give me one please
> 
> This books coming to an end soon!!! If you've been following along to the lyrics (which I did have to cut off for this chapter title so that there'd be room for another chapter) you'd know that there's only one more word left in the song! I'm hoping to maybe make a sequel with Arms Unfolding for the song, but you'd have to let me know with how this turns out.
> 
> I'm also pretty sure I'm sick because I'm lactose intolerant and ate SO MUCH CHEESE today


	11. Human.

John barely slept, uncomfortable in his own bed. Alex rolled over some time in the night, and as soon as his arm was free, John scrambled away and sat on the floor.

He didn't want to look at Alex's loopy writing on his arm that he should've loved looking at, didn't want to feel his slow breathing against the side of his face, and most of all didn't want to think about what had just come out his mouth. Alex was drunk. He surely didn't mean it. Hell, he probably wouldn't even remember it when he woke up.

He finally felt sleep tug at him and he embraced it fully, head against his side table drawers.

 

* * *

 

John felt his shoulder being shaken, startling him awake with a groan. His eyes cracked open to see his father, brows furrowed and speaking.

"We need to talk," his father said.

John was still half-asleep, standing up stiffly and stumbling after his father. He jolted when he finally came to and saw Alex's body still on his bed, immediately preparing for whatever speech his father would give to him right then. His stomach churned when they turned the corner and walked into the study.

He sat in a chair across from his father and waited.

"Phone," was all his father said.

"Huh?" John asked.

"Give me your phone."

John did as he was told, watching as his father opened the mini trash can by the desk and dropped it inside. When his father spoke again, his tone differed from the one before. He almost sounded disappointed.

"This boy- Alexander. Why is he in your bed? Why was I not informed he would be staying over?"

"After the party last night..." John paused, still trying to come up with a story. He felt his face getting hotter and cursed inwardly. "Alex felt really sick, and our house was closer."

His father clearly saw through his lies. "I...see. You know, I'm acquaintances with the Washingtons. Their son is quite a charming boy."

John gulped, knowing what he was getting at. When he didn't reply, his father was forced to continue.

"I thought this was just a phase, but clearly, I was wrong. I know what's going on, John. I'm not an idiot."

"Not at all, dad," was the only thing John could muster.

His father stood, "I talked to Martha this morning. I realized that I need to take you away from the root of these... feelings."

John flinched, dread washing over him. _That's it,_ he thought. Martha had told him she'd come back, but not under the current circumstances.

"I asked the maid to start packing your bags when she comes by today. They have some good schools in Philadelphia, we'll be able to enroll you in no time. Until then, go get your friend home."

 

* * *

 

"John? What's going on?" Alex asked, holding the sweatshirt John had given back to him. He'd been asking the same thing for five minutes, still only getting vague answers or being told to stop worrying. His head hurt and he honestly felt like throwing up, but he had to prioritize right then.

John sighed. He would have to get it over with it at some point. "I'm moving." He didn't want to think about the extremities of it all. For now, he was still with Alexander, he still had time and a home he had so many memories in.

Alex breathed in slowly. His heartbeat felt like it was coming from his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just found out." He looked down at the sidewalk. He didn't know how to approach all of the things he still needed answers to. They walked all the way until there was just a block left until Alexander's house. "Hey, um, Alex."

"Yeah?"

"You said something last night. I just want to know if you meant it." He felt like he had nothing to lose. Even if this went horribly wrong, his phone was in the trash and Alex would never be able to talk to him again.

"Okay," Alex said. He sounded suspicious and scared.

"You said that you lied. What did you mean by that?"

Alex sighed. He should've known to not to drink so much- but with each sip, he didn't feel the anxiety or guilt from his situation.

"You don't have to say anything, Alexander. But I won't laugh. I won't get angry, I promise you." John looked at him.

Alex stayed quiet.

John felt himself letting go. He'd spent so much of his life not knowing things- the truth of his mother's condition, whether or not he'd be forced into a marriage with the girl next door by his father, or if he'd ever even be looked at by someone who could say they loved him with certainty. Just this once, he needed someone to tell him the truth. Whatever that happened to be.

John exhaled hard, "You said you love me. Just please," he knew that the drops of water he felt on his face were tears, but he made no effort to wipe them away, "tell me if it's true."

Alex stopped dead in his tracks. Surely this was a prank, he'd never tell anyone.

Alex could lie. He could leave it right there, ruin their friendship and keep his emotions bottled up for however long they would stay true for. But then he looked at John. He recognized the pain in his eyes from all of the times Alex had stared at himself in the mirror and told himself to _man up._

"I-" Alexander couldn't finish his sentence, as his phone went off in his pocket. He shifted the sweatshirt to one arm and answered the call, turning slightly away from John's shaking figure.

Hercules' voice came through, asking if he was okay after last night and if he got home safe. He answered in short sentences, hoping that Herc would be satisfied with them alone.

When the call finally ended, he turned back to face John, a confession on the tip of his lips.

But the other was gone.

 

* * *

 

Late that night in Laurens residence, a phone rang from inside a small trash can.

John's father picked it out of the bin, declining the call immediately after seeing who it was from. He dropped it back inside, returning to reading over a paper.

The phone let out a noise to signify a new notification just a minute later, and when he picked it back up to turn off the sound, he was met with a text that made his blood boil.

**_A.Hamilton:_ ** _I meant it. I love you._

He threw it on the ground and crushed it with his heel. John would be leaving much sooner than he'd planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've reached the end! Thank you to the few reading this for sticking around for my terrible writing! There was originally an epilogue planned, but I felt like the ending came out in a way that it didn't need one.
> 
> I really just needed to finish this to get it off my mind. I really like writing, it's just that when it comes to putting out for people to see, I'm constantly terrified of losing people who enjoy it because I didn't post a lot, or something came out later than it should have, which ironically makes me procrastinate and get stuff out later. 
> 
> I'm getting therapy later this month, and I hope it's not gonna have to be like that anymore. 
> 
> I've always loved the song Human because when you looked deeper into the lyrics, you saw obsession and being desperate more than anything. I tried implementing that touch of it on both Alex and John's sides in little ways throughout this. I'm hoping to make a sequel with the song Arms Unfolding (it came out on Friday and aaaah), but this story has caused me so much stress (like most things) that it probably won't be for a while.


End file.
